Friday, May 15, 2009

Review # 1 - The Numero Group by Shikuma



The point is to find that lost gem, that new discovery, that killer song or artist. You search through acres of yard sales, attics, basements, off-the-beaten-track antique shops, dilapidated houses, in the hopes of finding a musical nugget, or two, to share with friends whose ear may share the same kind of appreciation. To have a mess of raw gemstones compiled onto a record (or CD) is to defy the ancient adage that lightning doesn’t strike twice, but when it does, the laws of nature and mathematics are thrown out of the window. That’s the case with the new reissue label, The Numero Group.

Launched in 2003, Numero Group was formed by three Chicago crate diggers, Ken Shipley, Rob Sevier and Tom Lunt. All three had experience in the record industry, (Shipley worked with Ryko, Sevier at Groove Distribution, and Lunt with Streetside Distribution), and they understood the foibles of the music business. They also understood the yet-unpaved possibilities of what a reissue label could offer. In a market largely dominated by British & foreign labels, companies like Rhino and Shout Factory! had already presented themselves as the U.S. standard for packaged compilations.

In a relative short amount of time, The Numero Group has raised a new standard for reissues, and in a unique, interesting manner. Raising from the dead: dusty record labels (as the case for their excellent Eccentric Soul series), forgotten artists (such as the psychedelia of Pisces or the rockabilly gospel of Fern Jones), once-ignored musical forms (such as the unique collection of solo fingerstyle guitar movement of Wayfaring Strangers: Guitar Soli), and the nearly unknown (such as the “world” booty of their Cult Cargo series), they’ve unearthed a whole slew of incredible stories and histories attached to these musical treasures.

“We want to find things that are both interesting to read about and interesting to listen to; it can’t just be 15 Funk Jammers,” said Ken Shipley, in an interview with Dan Ruccia for Dusted (www.dustedmagazine.com). “And that to me is where the idea of labels came into play. When I see a label, that, to me, is a clear cut idea that someone had a whole way of doing business, a way of listening to music, an individual’s perception of sound.”

The Numero Group’s Eccentric Soul series, showcasing defunct R&B and funk labels of the late 60’s and early 70’s, (including Miami’s Deep City label, Columbus, Ohio’s Capsoul label and the powerful collection of Atlanta’s Tragar and Note labels), comes packaged with intricate notes, unpublished photographs and stories of true music aficionados traveling down an endless, curve-filled road, to find the pulse of its musical source, The Numero Group offers compilations in both CD and vinyl format, often including bonus tracks for vinyl buyers. Not to mention their hip 7” soul singles.

“The mission is simple: to dig deep into the recesses of our record collections with the goal of finding the dustiest gems begging to be released from exile on geek street,” declares The Numero Group’s website mission statement. “No more would the artists, writers, and entrepreneurs who made these records happen go unknown and unappreciated.

“Numero offers an aesthetic. A shelf of Numero discs feels less like a ‘record collection’
and more like a library.” To date, the library is a mix of thrift shop soul, skinny tie pop, Belizean funk, and hillbilly gospel and with its consistency in unearthing high quality musical nuggets that cross genres, Numero has both lived up to and surpassed its own statement.
“Numero makes records for people who may have everything from indigenous Central American drumming to Canadian chanteuses stacked next to their CD players,” and as the label continues to defy the odds, best to leave the window open, wide open.

1 comment:

  1. You know, there's something about the ethic or aesthetic of "the library" that demands attention, as you say here, across the board of our crazy culture. We need that collective instinct to collect, even and especially as we plunge ever forward into the next new thing.

    That's why I'm so endlessly ambivalent about Wynton Marsalis. I mean I hate the pronouncements, the ego, the limitless confidence of the virtuoso-entitled "genius." But I gotta admit that as an academic, I cannot and would not argue with the basic instinct here: it's good, soooo gooood, to root around in our archives.

    What a deal. Paradox as ever. I want it new and now, even as I got to root for yesteryear...into the crates, the dusty corners, the stinky box of goodies that just showed up outa nowhere....

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